


Introduction to a Waltz

by rixie_rhee



Series: In the Mood [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Cute, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12774975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixie_rhee/pseuds/rixie_rhee
Summary: “We need to be quiet.”Rissa pretends to lock her lips and throw away the key. The glance that accompanies the gesture is so deliciously arch that Nix feels a tug at his--not his heart this time, it’s an entirely different piece of his anatomy.





	Introduction to a Waltz

Ten or so days later, after the week-end that they mostly spent in bed, Nix asks Rissa if she wants to have dinner with him. He’s decided to take her on a real date, to a real restaurant, the kind with white tablecloths and waiters in dinner jackets. His hair looks like he parted it with a ruler and his boots are spit-shined; he wants to look good for her, but not like he tried too hard, so the five o'clock shadow stays. When Nix knocks on the Miller’s front door, his heart is fluttering in his chest. Rissa’s is, too, when she comes down the stairs in her blue dress and Lise’s shoes. He takes her hand and kisses it before he kisses her cheek, and gives her the small bouquet of lilies of the valley. Rissa giggles and blushes; Lew winks. Her laughter makes his heart lurch, it’s no shrill, juvenile sound but something alluring, like caramel, sweet but not childish.

It’s very proper, him picking her up for a date instead of meeting her in her hotel room. Mrs. Miller is even there to play the part of a protective maternal figure. There's a sparkle in her eye when she tells Nix not to keep Rissa out too late. She puts a soft, grey sweater around Rissa's shoulders and whispers something in her ear, Rissa bites her lip and nods. When her eyes meet Nix's, her nose crinkles and her smile is both puckered and puckish.

Nix is charming, a gentleman, with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, asking the right questions and making the right comments. Finally, he takes Rissa’s elbow and leads her out the door and to the waiting and borrowed car. He opens the door for her, and once he's settled in the driver's seat his fingers twine with hers. The drive takes nearly forty minutes. He kisses her exactly once. It’s in sharp contrast to their first kiss, still full of longing but soft, just a brush of his lips on hers.

Dinner is lovely. The silver is heavy and the plates are thin, the voices and ambient sounds are muted. The light is co-operative, too, dim and warm enough to be flattering to almost anyone’s complexion. Easy conversation flows like wine. Underneath the table, his boot nudges her shoe, and then her foot trails up his leg, until he catches it and cups the muscle of her calf. Dessert comes last, with coffee for him and tea with entirely too much sugar for her. Then they spill out into the night, well, really just late evening.

“What would you like to do?”

She could have said she wanted to see a movie, or have a (another) cocktail, or dance, or a million other things. She doesn’t, though, so he takes her hand again and they walk back to the waiting car under a purple sky streaked pink at the edges. The air is the way it can be only in early spring, cool and soft and full of promise. Rissa thinks he’s only going to open the car door for her. He does, but only after kissing her again. This time he holds her flush to his body, his mouth is more insistent, and when her lips part for his tongue, they both sigh and relax into each other’s arms.

“I have a room to myself in a house full of guys. Would you like to sneak in with me?” His head is tipped forward so he can look down at her, a lock of hair falls over his forehead. Rissa wonders how any woman could refuse him.

She nods, whispers a yes against his lips, then her voice is teasing. "How could I say no to an offer like that?"

The way back seems entirely too long, much longer than the drive out. Nix pulls the car right close to the side door. The house is a large field stone thing with paned windows and shrubbery. There’s an arch over the door, a pretty portico with ivy climbing up the slender columns. It climbs over the walls, too. This is bad for the mortar, but the effect is picturesque.

“Wait,” he whispers, easing the door open and poking his head inside. Rissa stifles her charming giggle against her arm and then against Nix’s shoulder when he bends to scoop her up so no-one will hear her heels tapping where only combat boots should be treading. He carries her through the darkened kitchen and dining room and starts up the stairs, striding quickly so no one sees the girl he's smuggling in. This isn't forbidden,he just doesn't want to introduce her to anyone on the way up to his bedroom. The entryway is dark, but the living room beyond is warmly lit and voices float through the cased opening, as well as the smell of cigarette smoke and the slap of playing cards. Nix is walking quietly; they almost make it.

“Hey, Nix. That you?”

“Yeah,” he calls back down the stairs, stopping and turning. Rissa's arms tighten around his shoulders and she hides her face in his neck, as if that will help anything at all.

“You wanna play cards?”

“I’m going to bed.” At least this is not a lie.

“Really?”

“I’m tired.”

There’s guffawing and raucous laughter, several comments speculating what Nix might be doing. (He _said_ he was going to dinner with that nurse, the cute doe-eyed one he calls a friend. That girl might kiss him good-night, but now Nix was probably going to bed for a little time alone with himself. Poor bastard.)

His room is almost at the end of the hall, and he winces every time the floor creaks under his boots even though anyone would expect him to be there. It's a relief once the door is finally shut. Nix puts Rissa on her feet and turns to lock the door, and then he braces a chair under the doorknob for good measure.

When Rissa’s out of her shoes, red marks from the straps bracelet her ankles. She backs toward the narrow bed slowly in her stocking feet, perching on the edge as Nix switches his lamp off. The bed creaks when he sits beside her in the dark.

“We need to be quiet.”

Rissa pretends to lock her lips and throw away the key. The glance that accompanies the gesture is so deliciously arch that Nix feels a tug at his--not his heart this time, it’s an entirely different piece of his anatomy.

Rissa sits cross-legged in the dark, watching him remove his boots, his jacket, and his shirt and tie. Her hands are hesitant and light at his shoulders, at least until he leans down and the embrace tightens.

Nix undoes her buttons, no pulling or tugging this time. He just peels back one item of clothing after another until her skin is bare under his hands. Rissa eases his undershirt over his head and he struggles ungracefully out of his trousers. Nix nuzzles her breasts, likes the small gasp when his lips find her nipples and the sharp inhalation when his hand runs up the inside of her thigh.

Her capable little hands slide his boxers over his hips. Once they're both undressed, kissing, touching, suckling, and stroking follow, and the little sighs and whispers that go along with it. Nix's hands slip under her shoulder blades, he lays her down, lifts her so that her thighs ride his hips. Nix pauses--he could love her, he thinks, he could love her so much. But this is a lie, he loves her already even if he can’t even admit it to himself--and then he rolls his hips forward. No pulling or pinching tonight, not even teeth in his suckling, not even when she’s on top of him and straining to bring her breasts closer to his mouth. Just his lips and tongue while she moves rhythmically over him.

When she’s quivering and her breathing comes in small shudders, Nix claps a hand over her mouth, the other cupping the back of her head. “Shh, quiet, sweetheart. No noise.” When he takes his hands off her face, they fall to her breasts, between her legs to caress what he finds there. He whispers to her, that she’s a good, good girl, such a good girl. He can feel her contracting around him, and he embraces her when she sags limply against him.

“How do you want me, Lew?”

“On your back.” They move, resituate, so he’s kneeling over her. “Open your legs for me. Wider.” He tweaks one nipple gently and her thighs fall open. “Good girl.” There’s enough light to see that she does what he says, enough to see her nipples standing out. Nix's fingers press into her, Rissy winces but lifts her hips to him anyway, offering herself to him. He plays with her, teasing her, but teasing himself, too. When he can’t wait one more second, he moves over her, bending at the waist so that his face is almost between her thighs.

She’s fragrant, smokey with arousal, and he’s torn--push into her or bury his face there? No, he nips at her left nipple before he sits up, guides her hand between her legs.

Her eyes are closed and she's breathing hard, but she does whatever he says. He presses against her small bundle of nerves again, and she whimpers.

“Please, please--I--Oh, Lew--don’t play anymore. I need you.”

And how could he refuse such a request? It wouldn’t be possible, not when she's spread out under him and she’s pleading with him to come inside her.

* * *

 

Downstairs, they’re still mocking him good-naturedly, joking that Nix has a date with his right hand. There’s still no rancor. But these are young men, bored with cards and cigarettes. “Let’s go out. It’s not even eleven o’clock yet.”

“Should we see if he wants to go?”

“If there’s liquor he’ll want to go.”

A loose knock sounds on the door, making it move slightly in its frame. Whoever’s on the other side of the door tries to turn the knob and for half a second, Nix is sure the door’ll swing open despite the lock and the chair. “Hey, Nix, we’re going to--”

“Have fun. I’m sleeping.” Only four words but he struggles to keep his voice even so that his speech resembles something even approaching normal. Rissa’s grinding up against him, knees over his shoulders, giving him a lovely visual and a gentle rocking motion that make it almost impossible to think, let alone form coherent sentences. Despite this, it’s her eyes that he can’t look away from.

“He sounds funny.” He can still make out the muffled voices.

“Maybe he really is tired.” Booted feet shift in the hall.

Someone calls through the door, “Are you sure? Hard liquor and pretty women await.” He can’t be bothered to even try to distinguish voices, he’s too busy trying desperately to be quiet while Rissa does her very best to make him feel good.

“Goddamn it, yes!” She arches up to meet his thrusts, clutching at any part of him she can reach. When he draws back, she _squeezes_ , and Nix lets out a guttural 'Yeah' that must be audible in the hall.

“Are you okay? What’re you doing in there? Are you sick or something?”

“I’m in my goddamn bed. Leave me alone!” He’d be okay, only she does it again, it’s almost too much. Her breasts are swaying, he can see his cock pistoning in and out of her, she’s spread out, and then she brings his hand between her legs before she touches him. He swears, a string of four-letter words dropping from his mouth.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, just go away!”

“All right, then. Have a good night.”

Voices and laughter fade down the hall, and none too soon. Nix rides his orgasm out and Rissa clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle his groan. He’s left a copious amount of fluid, so much so that it’s slightly ridiculous.

“Were you a little excited?”

“How could I help it? Look at you.”

“Oh, come here.” She pulls his head to her chest, his five o’clock shadow on her soft breasts, and she kisses the crown of his head.

“I think they thought I was--” He doesn’t want to say it in words, so he mimics the action he’s referring to.

“Poor baby. That wasn’t very nice of me, was it?” Rissa tips his chin up so she can kiss Nix’s mouth. Her arms are around him, holding him close. He can’t remember a girl ever holding him like this. Rissa makes a content sound and pulls him closer so he can rest against her. She sighs under his weight and makes small adjustments to her position so they're both comfortable.

"On the contrary, it was very nice of you." His lighter strikes, and in the brief flash he can see one eye and the shape of her lips. When he exhales, the smoke hangs lazily over their heads. “At least they’re gone now. You can clean up in the bathroom and no one will walk in on you.”

When she goes, she takes the sheet with her, wrapped around her body like a Greek girl might have done in antiquity. She could be a white marble statue, Girl Emerging from her Lover’s Bed. Rissa hurries to the bathroom on quick bare feet and when she comes back out, she’s put back together. Her cheeks are stained with roses and she’s combed her hair as best she could.

There’s no reason to be furtive now that the house’s occupants have ventured out to find their own fun. Nix doesn’t need to carry Rissa, but he keeps his hands are on her, on her waist and her slim bare arms. His fingers curl around hers. He opens the car door, helps her inside and tucks the skirt of her dress under her thigh so it won’t get caught in the door. For ten minutes, Rissa watches Nix while his eyes are on the road. Gravel crunches satisfyingly under the tires, and she's back home before midnight, ready to go up to her twin bed and sleep curled up with her pillow.

Tweedia, stephanotis, bouvardia, and sweet peas are blooming in the back garden, perfuming the air. Delphinium and lily-of-the-valley are there, too, creating a pretty riot of color in pinks and blues and whites. Nix takes Rissy to the back porch. This is the door everyone uses, the one that opens into the homey kitchen and not the entry way with its gilt-edged mirror and half-moon table where the telephone lives. This is more private besides, no one can see from the road, so there’s no witness for the good-night kisses, save the moon and the French girl peeking through an upstairs window.


End file.
